


At Her Most Beautiful

by SpookyBibi



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Inspired by Music, Love Confessions, Pining, Smiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-05
Updated: 2015-09-05
Packaged: 2018-04-18 22:07:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4722143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpookyBibi/pseuds/SpookyBibi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lydia Martin is the most beautiful girl, everyone knows that. But no one makes her glow like Jordan Parrish.</p>
            </blockquote>





	At Her Most Beautiful

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Marrish Week, Day 6 - Song Lyrics
> 
> This was inspired by At My Most Beautiful, by REM. This song so clearly tells the thoughts that go through Jordan's mind when he looks at Lydia... :)

He can make her smile, like no other. Bad jokes, silly puns. Witty banter, when the mood is right. Yeah, he can make her smile. He’s even been told it’s been years since she smiled like this, at anything.

It started off on that foot right away. She was there to help him, he was in the dark about himself. Everything surrounding them was heavy and filled with gloom but he found a way to make her smile. They needed it. In the deep of the night, while they read about terrible-natured creatures that they both hoped he wouldn’t turn out to be, anything that could alleviate the atmosphere was welcomed.

Jordan isn’t the sarcastic or ironic kind, he is more of the quietly goofy kind. It’s different, light, and it works on her. When he gets a joke out at the right time she can’t keep her laughter in, can’t pretend she thinks it’s stupid or childish. She smiles, it turns into a wide grin more often than not. Her cheeks get some color, her eyes a shiny glimmer. She giggles, even. Lydia giggling is a beautiful sound. From what he knows it doesn’t happen that often these days. It makes him warm inside, to know that he can give her that. A reprieve, a pause to laugh and forget. He can make her smile and it’s beautiful.

Then, once the chaos has ended for the moment, he can take it one step further. Theo is dead, the Dread Doctors destroyed. They have peace and quiet, time to live and just be. More so, Jordan and Lydia have a connection, a link, an understanding. An intimacy. He can call her, for any reason he can think of. Sometimes just to see how she is, what she’s up to. He still makes her smile, leaves bad poetry on her voicemail, more puns. They still work and she smiles and shakes her head at him when she sees him next. She’s so beautiful when she does that.

She can make him smile too. Little notes on his desk when she comes by and he isn't there. Always flirty, signed with a flourish, her name and a winking heart that confuses him. Voice mails where she says her name, as if he couldn't place her voice among any other. He absolutely can. She’s not just a banshee, known for her scream. She’s Lydia, tiny goddess who can charm him with a word and has him attentive at the first sound of her voice. Her voice has a delicate inflexion when she leaves him a message, somewhat more careful, softer. Written or spoken, he saves all her messages, keeps them for… A reason he doesn’t want to admit. They make him happy, they make him smile. It’s as simple as that, or so he likes to believe.

…

But then she grows more somber. Wordplay or teasing doesn’t work quite as well. She shrugs at them more than anything. He asks about it, gently, without pressure. “It’s nothing,” she always says. Until one late night in August when she appears at his door, tired, hair messier than usual. More beautiful than ever, in his eyes.

“Do you love me, Jordan?” She has never been one to beat around the bush, or to call him by his first name. It makes for one hell of a punch to the gut.

He stands there, confused, guilty; barefoot and naked, so to speak. He has sweats on but he might as well be wearing nothing at all, given the flush on his cheeks and the silent admission in his eyes.

“Tell me. I’m leaving for Brown in two days, I need to know. I can’t stand and wait and imagine and wonder. I can’t afford to do that once I’m there, I’ll go crazy. So tell me.”

He stares and can’t lie. “Yes.” Because he does, he’s fallen for her a million times over. With every smile and secret shared and laughter and cup of coffee she’s captured his heart. When asked so directly he can’t hide it.

He doesn’t need to say more, can’t either. There is no need for jokes, elaborate declarations. One word, filled with honesty, was all she required.

She smiles again, the widest, brightest, most luminescent smile he has ever seen on her. Then he doesn’t see anything anymore because she is right there in his arms, kissing the life and sight out of him.

…

She goes to Brown two days later. Her bags are packed, her room is waiting for her. He will be waiting as well, for as long as it will be needed.

She comes back the first weekend. “I couldn’t wait, missed you,” she mumbles between hurried kisses, right there on the front porch of his building. It takes him ten minutes to convince her to move and get inside.

He always thinks she’s gorgeous, so beautiful. But he sees her at a whole other level that next morning, sleeping in his bed, naked and tangled in his sheets. The sun is filtering through the blinds, minuscule rays that act like tiny spotlights on her skin. He’s always been an early riser but he never had such a view before and he finds himself staying in bed rather than getting up. Too many little things to observe, commit to memory, admire. She has a few freckles on her nose, remnants of a sunny summer. Her ears are actually too small for her head, adorably so. So many details.

He props himself on one elbow, head resting against his fist, and his free hand pushing away the curls that have fallen across her face. She’s deep in sleep, a peaceful one given how her forehead is free of any lines and her eyes are softly closed. The sun lights up the top of her cheeks, and makes the tips of her eyelashes look like they’re fired up. There’s a touch of red in them, he notices, and suddenly he’s fascinated, counting them under his breath.

“God I love you,” he murmurs after losing count. “Everything about you is so beautiful.”

She doesn’t move a muscle, except one. From his close he can see the twitch in her mouth, the corners curl up ever so slightly. He’s too attentive to miss it, no matter how subtle she is being.

“Sleep, I love you, sleep. We have time.”

This time she smiles without hiding it. Eyes closed to keep up appearances, but a smile that says it all anyway.

He’s found it, the one moment. This is Lydia at her most beautiful, and he swears never to forget that sight.

…

Loving her makes him his best, in every way. Loving her gives him a home, meaning, faith. Everything he needed and waited for such a long time to find. What he takes even longer to realize is that he helped her become her best as well. They truly make each other shine.

When she walks down the aisle in her stunning wedding dress, a shining beauty like no other, everyone agrees that she is at her most beautiful. He does as well. Never noticing that her smile aimed at him, her eyes fixed on him, the blush on her cheeks brought by the sight of him; those are the reasons she is so radiant.


End file.
